


Fenhanders week 2017

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Character Death, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Multi, Polyamory, Psychological Horror, Sex Toys, The Calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: A collection of drabbles for Fenhanders week 2017, now reuploaded here.This collections contains a diptych with a bad ending and a good ending. The worst tags up here are just for the bad ending half of the diptych and can easily be skipped.





	1. A bleeding heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A bleeding heart  
> Rating: All ages  
> Pairing: Fenhanders  
> Prompt for Monday: ‘We’ve been Flirting for Years now…’
> 
> First time realising that yes, they can definitely be a thing with the three of them.

“You were an idiot to leave Hawke.”

“And you were fast enough to replace me.”

“I love him. You can't even imagine what that is.”

“Do not bare your heart to me, mage, unless you would have me rip it out.”

Hawke was about to turn around and tell both of them off - both of them for always baiting each other and now making it all the worse by picking this particular topic. It hurt that Fenris left. It hurt that Fenris and Anders hated each other.

It hurt that Hawke desired them both, and he could only have one and watch the other get bullied. He felt like the worst person for falling in love with two men who hated each other. He probably deserved neither, but he _needed_ them both.

He had his mouth open to snap at them, hoping his hurt would not show, when Anders managed to cut in the next remark.

Surprisingly, it was not as snide as he had expected.

“Oh, like you don’t do that anyway.”

Hawke stopped walking abruptly, and the sudden stop made that Anders bumped into his back. The mage made an indignant sound, but Hawke was too distracted by what he had just heard.

Anders had sounded genuinely sad when he said that. Like he tried to cover it up, of course, but Anders’ tells were all clear as day even at his best attempts.

Fenris seemed to have heard it too, faltering in the argument, clearly not expecting the vulnerability in Anders’ voice.

Hawke just swirled around to wrap his mage in his arms, pulling him tightly to his chest. Anders made a startled sound of protest at being squished against Hawke’s armour, but he would have to make do.

“Sebastian, why don’t you head back by yourself from here. I need to talk with these two.”

Fenris stood frozen, hands balled into fists of spiky gauntlets, glaring at them from under his fringe, but he remained unmoving while Sebastian gave them a careful ‘goodnight’, waiting for the archer to leave.

“What did you mean, Anders?” Hawke finally demanded when he was sure Sebastian was out of earshot.

Fenris’ head shot up in surprise, clearly having expected to be the one to be called out on it first. Anders flinched in his arms, and started squirming.

“Nothing, it meant nothing. He goes around ripping hearts from chests everywhere doesn’t he? Isn’t that his style, to intimidate with his superior skills that clearly aren’t magic? Because he’d never touch magic, the bast-”

“No,” Hawke interrupted sharply. “That’s not what you were talking about. Fenris told you not to bare your heart for he would rip it out, and you said he did that anyway. This is not about the magical fisting thing.”

Anders went quiet, so Hawke looked at Fenris instead. The elf was clearly having trouble to look at either of them right now, and the silence drew out to be uncomfortable enough to make even Hawke want to squirm.

“Would you physically rip Anders’ heart out, Fenris?”

“No!” The answer was so fast, so shocked, it made Hawke sigh in relief. Whatever this was, Fenris didn’t hate Anders enough to kill him. Now better would be if he could take it a step further.

“So you didn’t mean physically either. You meant emotionally. I think you were talking about Anders’ compassionate nature and how telling him the truth would make him hurt.”

Fenris scoffed, but at the same time he was starting to look more and more like a trapped animal. Anders was starting to shake slightly in Hawke’s arms, but he was too focused on Fenris right now. He needed to figure out the elf first.

If only he knew where he was going with this himself. Was this just his greediness trying to make Fenris admit he loved him too? What good would that do, except for more pain on all sides?

_If only Anders and Fenris could love each other too_ .

“Do you love me, Fenris?”

Anders tensed up in Hawke’s arms but he held him tight, watching for Fenris’ reaction. The elf’s face lifted marginally for him to meet his eyes, and it broke Hawke’s heart. He was certain Anders wasn’t looking now, because there was no way Fenris would allow himself to look this vulnerable where the mage could see. He looked like Hawke had just kicked his puppy and Hawke felt as sorry as if he had, maybe more.

Fenris’ eyes told him enough, even if there hadn’t been a minute nod.

Silence stretched between them, uncomfortable, stinging, until Anders was the one who snapped.

“Of course he bloody loves you, Hawke. Don’t be ridiculous. Now if only he didn’t hate _me_ so much we could all be one big happy family together, so too bad he’s more likely to rip my heart out, isn’t it?”

Fenris didn’t miss a beat to snap. “I just told you I would not, did I not!? I believe you are the one more likely to set me on fire or something equally preposterous than-”

“I wouldn’t!”

Anders was now struggling against Hawke’s grip, trying to get to Fenris, and all Hawke could do was watch in amazement. For all the fighting he’d seen them do, this was definitely the first time they fought about how the other hated them most. He would’ve expected it the other way around.

“You have been itching to use your magic on me,” Fenris accused.

“I have, because you won’t let me heal you unless you’re about to get killed by a giant spider!”

“The mage admits it!”

“Admitting to wanting to _heal_ you, you blighted son of a-!”

“Hold it!” Hawke ordered, squeezing Anders hard enough to let the last word of his sentence end in a surprised wheeze. “Are you both completely insane? Can’t you just stop fighting for _one_ moment and _listen_? Maker’s balls, just kiss and make up, would you?” He finally released Anders, just to give him a strong shove to make the mage tumble into Fenris’ arms.

He cocked an expectant eyebrow at them when they gaped at him, until they turned to face each other. The pause was so long Hawke definitely started squirming this time, but he didn’t dare rush them any further lest there be casualties.

He shouldn’t have worried.

Both their faces grew to the brightest shades of red he’d ever seen on them, but they leaned in - Fenris slightly down because Anders was barely standing on his own two feet after that shove, Anders stretching up ever so little - and Hawke had to bite his tongue when their lips brushed together.

He was jealous, but not at either of them. Both of them. He just wanted them both.

But more than that, he wanted them to be happy.

He breathed in deeply, as quietly as he could, before turning away and attempting to sneak off. Heavy armour didn’t lend itself well for sneaking though, and before he could finish even a second step he was called back by an indignant ‘hey!’ from Anders.

Before he quite knew what was happening, his arms were grabbed - and it took him a full second to realise each got encircled by two arms, one clad in dirty robes and the other in leather and sharp gauntlets. He was pulled down, and suddenly there were lips on either cheek, heat flaring up into his face immediately.

“If we both just admitted to loving you, do you honestly think we want you to walk away?”

“I believe the mage spoke of... ‘one big happy family’, did he not? I expected you to want to give that a try, Hawke.”

Hawke felt so happy he could cry.

No, he _did_ cry.

“Oh, you oaf.” Anders cupped his chin with one hand, fingers scratching through the bristles of his beard as if he were a cat, before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his cheek. “And you were badmouthing _my_ bleeding heart.”

 

 


	2. Now be nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Now be nice  
> Rating: R-17  
> Pairing: Fenhanders+Merrill  
> Prompt for Tuesday: ‘Three’s a Crowd, now Four…’
> 
> Of course it would be easiest to toss Isabela into their bed but… when did I ever pick easiest? Plus, Fenris and Anders really owe Merrill an apology or fifteen.

It was perhaps irony that Fenris and Anders were for once being civil and agreeing entirely when they entered Hawke’s mansion together. They may love each other as much as they loved Hawke, but that didn’t mean they were capable of all that many civil conversations. They had long found out it was best to let Hawke do all the talking when they were together.

But there was always one topic they agreed on, and that was blood magic. And in extension, their opinion on Merrill.

“She is so naive,” Anders sighed, using the sturdy mat at the front door to wipe whatever he’d stepped into in Darktown off his boots. “Time and time again I’m perplexed she can act the adorable part so well, while consorting with demons at the same time.”

“Perhaps she believes herself above demons if she giggles them away,” Fenris scoffed, holding Anders’ shoulder when he seemed to be losing his balance. His lover gave him a grateful look before toeing his boots off altogether to leave them in the hallway. The worst that could happen was Master getting them and chewing them all up, although he had not seemed very eager to put the boots that lived in Darktown between his maws. For which Anders was grateful, mind you.

“Maybe I should tell her that demons like cute girls just as much as old hags,” Anders mused, following after Fenris through the hallway. “Maybe she just didn’t know that yet. I knew another Keeper’s First, back with the Wardens, but she wasn’t half naive.”

“I find it hard to believe, after meeting the witch.”

“She wasn’t half cute either,” Anders pointed out, as if that made the difference.

“The witch will not be half cute either once she turns into an abomination,” Fenris groused, right as he opened the door to the bedroom.

They both froze on the threshold, taken off guard by the sight that met them.

Hawke was looking embarrassed, but Anders knew his lover long enough to know what he was embarrassed of. Not of the blood mage next to him on the bed.

More like the bickering of his lovers that they must’ve overheard.

At least Merrill, for her part, sat with lips pursed in discontent, looking at them challenging. The clearest of all signs they had overheard the conversation, because everything about the situation would’ve made her shy otherwise.

“W-well then... talk about the devil.” Anders managed a nervous laugh - more like a cough - before quickly trying to turn on his heel. He was apprehended immediately by a strong arm around his waist, Fenris dragging him into the room and kicking the door closed behind them.

“What is the meaning of this, Hawke?”

Hawke cleared his throat awkwardly, waiting until Anders reluctantly turned to face the bed and its two occupants again.

“The _meaning_ of this, is that I am entirely done with the way you two treat Merrill. I brought her over so we could talk until you are ready to apologise for your atrocious behaviour.”

“Hawke, you can’t seriously mean-”

“I will not take part in thi-”

“Shut up. Both of you.”

Hawke need not raise his voice. It was the darkness, the _anger_ in his tone that brought home the seriousness of the situation.

Anders was pretty sure he had never heard Hawke use that tone with either of them before. In fact... the last time was probably when the Arishok threatened to take Isabela.

“Hawke, you know very well we both have problems with blood magic,” Fenris tried again, and Anders was grateful Hawke let him speak. “As should you. What do you expect us to apologise for?”

Merrill opened her mouth to retort this time but Hawke silenced her with a gesture before slowly standing up and making his way over to his two lovers. Sauntering in what must’ve been the most threatening manner Anders had ever seen, and he felt on the loosening of Fenris’ grip on his waist that the elf was getting the same instincts to flee now.

“What I want you to apologise for is treating her like, like...” he made a dismissive gesture and a sound of disgust, and Anders winced at the fact that even Hawke could not put into words how bad he felt it was. “I am not asking you to like her blood magic, or even any of her choices in life. What I _am_ asking is for you to treat her civilly. Merrill is our friend - our _family_. You lot are all I have left, and I will _not_ watch you tear her down when she is at her lowest any longer.”

Anders opened his mouth for a witty retort, but thought better of it just in time. He got nailed to the door with the anger in Hawke’s gaze nonetheless.

“You do _not_ pick on _anyone_ while they’re grieving, I will not allow it. And yet you did so repeatedly to Merrill - and the last time was enough. I’ve had enough.”

Anders stumbled to the side when Hawke grabbed Fenris’ arm to drag him over to the bed. Merrill was looking openly worried, and Anders was struck by the need to reassure her. To teach her, like he often tried. But he knew he always did so acting like a know-it-all - Andraste’s knickers, he bloody _should_ be allowed to act like that to a blood mage - and Hawke was angry enough without throwing that onto the pile as well.

Hawke grabbed Fenris by the back of his neck and made him lean over to Merrill. Fenris remained tense, but there was the slight tremble in his muscles that Anders recognised from... other times in this very bedroom. Fenris was this close to submitting to Hawke’s wishes, but still on the edge of resistance.

A game they had often played, and made Anders come to the sudden realisation that was partially what this was: their game. The game they played - but never before with someone else.

“You will apologise to Merrill for the hateful words you spoke about Keeper Marethari today.” Hawke’s voice had dropped to an even more dangerous tone, and it made Anders cower back against the door properly now. Every fibre of his being was screaming for him to kneel and beg forgiveness, but this was about Merrill and she was an unknown factor in this bedroom.

At the same time her presence was beyond arousing. They had spoken about humiliation and adding another partner for their play, and Anders wished so hard that this was exactly that. Even if Merrill’s name had never been spoken, the scene they had all consented to-

Anders’ breath hitched when Fenris suddenly obeyed, suddenly leaned in further and grabbed Merrill’s face between both hands, sharp points of his gauntlets cradling around her jaw carefully. She made a surprised little noise when she was pulled in for a kiss and Anders all but whimpered on the floor.

Yes, this was definitely that play they had spoken of now.

The pieces of the puzzle clicked together and Anders was on his hands and knees, crawling towards the bed where Hawke was still looming over Fenris kissing Merrill senseless. He grabbed her ankle and feathered his lips against it, her gasping into the kiss cueing him to glance up at Hawke.

Approving eyes. This was what he meant to happen.

A play they all consented to, turned and used to make their apologies to Merrill real. Like with each other, in play they could set their differences aside and approach each other on a more intimate level.

Hawke knew them too well.

They would still not like Merrill’s blood magic, but they could apologise for their horrid behaviour when they no longer needed to posture for each other.

Especially Fenris though. Anders was pretty sure Fenris was much meaner against her than he was.

His lips curled at the thought and he was punished with a mild swat to the back of his head.

“I can see what you’re thinking Anders, it’s all right there on your face. Don’t think I won’t punish you if you fail to apologise sufficiently.

A shiver ran up Anders’ spine and he pressed his lips against Merrill’s ankle to moan into her skin.

He was pretty sure he was right, but if he wasn’t...? Well, he couldn’t help he enjoyed Hawke’s punishments so much, now could he?


	3. One big happy family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: One big happy family  
> Rating: R-15  
> Pairing: Beth/Fenhanders/Carver (in that order)  
> Prompt for Wednesday: ‘A Trip to the Black Emporium’
> 
> Canon divergent day. What do I come up with? Ah yes, all the fluff. Everybody lives and loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one big polyship, but there’s no incest going on.  
> There is Bethany/Fenris, Fenris/Hawke/Anders and Anders/Carver. One polyship, but no family members actually crossing.

“Hawke. Your little brother is doing it again.”

Fenris spoke just loud enough for Carver to hear him on the other end of the room, but not loud enough to make Garrett wince at the sound in his half-asleep state. Carver made an indignant noise and Garrett knew exactly what Fenris was talking about.

He grunted, giving whatever body part of the elf he was holding a grateful squeeze - a firm buttock, hmm good place for his hand to wake up on - before wriggling around in order to turn over. Fenris’ arms slipped around his waist immediately, the lithe body pressing up against his back, so they could both embrace the sleeping mage who’d been previously spooning Garrett from behind.

“Mnn, Carver... what did I tell you about ogling our mage’s arse.”

Hawke drowsily lifted his head to give Carver a pointed look over Anders, and Carver spluttered before blushing and giving in. Surprisingly fast, although admittedly Anders was a great catalyst between the Hawke brothers. Even asleep.

“Not to ogle without touching, is what you told me. I don’t want to wake him up yet though, let him sleep, brother.”

“He won’t wake up from a little groping,” Garrett yawned, one arm prying its way under their mage so he could put his hands on either pale buttock, kneading them while a grin spread on his face. “It’s such a nice arse to grope. And Anders sleeps better when he’s being touched - drives off the nightmares.”

“What? No way, you made that up!” Bethany slipped into the bedroom behind her twin, and Garrett could feel Fenris behind him perk up at her voice. Garrett himself, however, perked up at the smell that entered with her.

“Is that breakfast, Beth? Have I told you you’re my favourite sister recently?”

Bethany laughed, a slightly embarrassed tilt to it that tipped Garrett off she was aiming to please Fenris rather than him. She didn’t say it though, so he forewent the pouting he’d normally show when she favoured her lover over her brother.

“Orana baked the sweet rolls you like so much,” she said, walking around the large bed to sit down on Fenris’ side. The elf peeled himself off Garrett’s back to sit up and kiss her good morning, so Garrett pulled Anders in a little closer, pressing their bodies flush together while his eyes fluttered closed contently for a moment. “I thought we should bring them to you sleepyheads while they’re still warm.”

When Garrett opened his eyes again, Carver was settling on the bed as well, opposite of Bethany. He leaned in to brush some of Anders’ hair out of the way before placing a tender kiss on their mage’s cheek, and Garrett could only grin.

A teasing grin because he liked to annoy Carver, but they both knew he truly loved the sight of his little brother being sweet on Anders.

“We should really wake him, or he’ll miss out on the sweet rolls,” Garrett pointed out, and Carver scowled at him.

“He barely sleeps as it is. Don’t think I don’t know he has terrible sleeping habits just because Beth and I sleep in the next room.”

“He barely eats either, and he slept through the night this time.”

“Wake the mage, if he sleeps any longer his demon will give him trouble later.”

“But he’s so peaceful like this, can’t we just-”

“-he’s also fairly done listening to you bicker about him.”

“Aww, now you woke him Carver!”

Carver squawked indignantly, but Garrett got punished with a jab to the side right below the ribs, making him laugh and wheeze while he rolled away.

“Carver wasn’t the one speaking right into my ear while trying to remodel my arse, Hawke.”

“But it’s such a _nice_ arse!”

“It will be a bruised arse if you keep going.” Fenris nabbed Garrett’s wrists before he could make another grab for Anders, and Garrett raised an eyebrow at him.

_A challenge?_

“I think the bruising has more to do with the way you pound that arse whenever you get the chance.” He smirked, and the next moment they were wrestling each other for dominance in the middle of the bed. Bethany made a sound of protest, removing herself with the tray of food to avoid their breakfast getting scattered over the floor by a stray foot. Anders only crawled to the side of the bed where he could rest his head in Carver’s lap, seemingly not too impressed with the mock fight.

Not until one of said stray feet caught him in the hip anyway. Before Anders could even make a sound of protest, Carver had snatched Garrett’s ankle and lifted it, dragging his older brother into a position where he was forced to forfeit.

If Fenris hadn’t taken the opportunity to straddle his hips triumphantly, Garrett wouldn’t have given up. There was no way Carver could pin him like that - but the sight of Fenris’ smirk was rather delightful and he hadn’t actually meant to kick Anders either.

“Sorry Anders,” he sighed, sliding his hands over Fenris’ thighs until they reached his hips, tugging Fenris a little closer until he could comfortably take hold of the next set of firm buttocks. More muscular, this set. Able to squeeze a lot tighter too.

“Stop playing around and eat,” Bethany chastised them good-naturedly, taking her place on the bed again and stuffing one of the rolls into Garrett’s mouth without giving him a chance to refuse. She was more gentle with Fenris of course, smiling at him sweetly while offering him a roll of his own.

In a fit of jealousy, Garrett reached behind her to grab her hip and drag her forward too, giving her hip a small proud pat when she squeaked but settled against him anyway. He only had to give the other twin a look before Carver was huffing in annoyance and shifting, being so careful in lifting Anders to take him along it looked almost uncharacteristic for him. He’d always been that gentle with Bethany too, but seeing it put to good use on Anders was heart warming.

“One big snuggle pile,” Garrett beamed up at his lovers and siblings, earning smiles and one roll of the eyes.

“Eat your breakfast brother, or it’ll get cold.”


	4. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Warm Welcome  
> Rating: R-18  
> Pairing: Fenhanders  
> Prompt for Friday: ‘But Who’s the Little Spoon?’  
> Or me specifically going for ‘these three in their more intimate moments’, of course.  
> Alternatively: Anders shares his love

“Now _this_ is something nice to come home to.”

Hawke was already halfway out of his cuirass before Fenris could see what he was talking about. The sight had him hurry to close the bedroom door behind him, and he wasted not another second to start stripping himself.

Anders lay splayed on their bed, naked and flushed and his hair so dishevelled Fenris knew he had to be at it for some time already.

‘It’ being pumping a rather large toy into his hole, cock straining and leaking on his belly but unattended. A smaller toy lay discarded on the bed, clearly used in an earlier stage as preparation.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” he groaned, the movement of his hand thrusting the toy remaining steady even if heavy shudders were visibly wrecking his body.

“Had we known you were waiting for us like this, I would have dragged Hawke out of that cave sooner.” Fenris hopped on one leg inelegantly with a soft curse under his breath when his foot got stuck in his leggings, the hurry not helping. But Hawke was worse off, apparently getting the ties of his breeches caught between two sliding pieces of his leg guards.

“Hawke-”

“You go help Anders,” Hawke growled, interrupting Fenris’ attempt to offer assistance. He paused, giving Hawke one long look to ask if he was sure, and then turned to pounce on their mage.

To be fair, Anders was clearly in more need of assistance than Hawke was.

“Fenrissss...” Anders moaned wantonly, grabbing Fenris’ shoulders and dragging him down to practically smash their lips together. Fenris tasted blood but he was too impatient to care. To impatient to do anything but map the thin body beneath him with his fingers, reacquainting himself with the scars, the slightly raised birthmarks, the ridges of bone pressing into skin.

Anders moaned and whined against his lips, and just as suddenly as Fenris had been dragged down, he was pushed away again.

Fenris leaned back in surprise, allowing the mage to push him as he liked.

He was proven right to do so.

Anders pushed until Fenris sat back on his haunches, then down onto his butt. Anders came up to crouch over him and Fenris’ breath hitched, his arms quickly coming around the mage’s waist to stabilise him when he reached back to pull the toy from his arse. Slick fingers scrabbled for Fenris’ cock and before he could register that Anders was skipping the part where he’d get slicked up, he was sliding deep into his lover’s body.

Fenris’ head dropped back to groan, stars before his eyes at the tight heat of his Anders’ arse. He didn’t need any more oil on his cock indeed, it felt like Anders had emptied an entire bottle of it in his arse.

So much, in fact...

He held the mage stable with one hand while the other one searched the sheets for the smaller discarded toy. Anders was pressing down on his shoulders to be released, his hip rolling and bucking to ride Fenris, but Fenris had other plans. He wanted to add the toy first, stretch Anders a little further.

When Hawke would manage to free himself from his armour, he should get a warm welcome on the bed.

When his fingers bumped against the thin toy he made a triumphant noise low in his throat, and it gave Anders a pause. He was given a curious look, but all Fenris had to do was touch Anders’ arse with the toy for realisation to dawn on the mage’s face.

Anders smirked, pushing up a little on his knees to let Fenris’ slide halfway out of him, giving him the space between his legs to press the toy flush to his own cock. The mage lowered himself carefully, moaning deeply at the stretch of the toy being added.

“A-are you fine?” Fenris found himself panting while hardly having done anything, but he made no effort to hide it. He would not know how not to be out of breath with Anders on his cock.

Anders merely nodded, a small whine escaping his lips before he put his weight on Fenris’ shoulders again. Fenris held steady as Anders slowly started to move, pushing up and sinking slow to ride Fenris in a careful, almost tentative rhythm. He figured the mage could use some extra incentive, so he reached around to grab the base of the toy, starting to pump it slowly against their pace.

“Oh fuck, oh Fenris-”

“Maker, the two of you will kill me. My dick is going to blow up, and not in the good way!”

Fenris laughed at Hawke’s whining, glancing over his shoulder at how their lover was still struggling. Right as Hawke simply ripped the strings with brute force, he found himself pressed back down to lay on the bed.

He gasped in surprise, two soft hands placed on his belly by the mage on top of him. A blond fringe obscured brown eyes, but Fenris could see sweat dripping off pale skin.

All the colours he liked best, right on top of him and _riding_ him.

“Anders- sweet Maker, _Anders_ -”

And the next moment, Hawke was straddling Fenris’ thighs, right behind Anders. Large warrior hands wrapped around Anders’ upper arms, helping him lift his weight for each bounce on Fenris’ cock, inviting a loud moan from the mage’s throat.

Fenris knew all the callouses on those hands, all the rough spots and the tender spots, the hot palms and the hard fingers. Seeing them set off on Anders’ skin - he reached up, his hands joining Hawke’s on their lover’s arms. Anders only bounced the harder for it, whining and whimpering at the loss of Fenris’ hand pumping the toy.

“I believe the mage wants more, Hawke,” Fenris pointed out helpfully, watching the smirk grow on Hawke’s face at that.

“Then more he shall have. I can never deny my lovers anything, I love spoiling you both and you know it.”

“H-Hawke-” Anders’ voice was pitched high and desperate, but he was forced to stop his tired riding of Fenris’ cock to allow Hawke to pull the toy out of his arse. Fenris felt the loss of the toy keenly, but it got all the better when the blunt head of Hawke’s cock pressed up against his shaft. He lowered his hands to Anders’ waist to lift him off his cock again, and when he lowered he was once more filled with _more_.

“Love, my love, please just please…”

“Anything for you, my dearest.” Hawke wrapped an arm around Anders’ chest to draw him in, answering pleas and whimpers with promises from lip to lip, tongue to tongue. Fenris couldn’t help but groan at the sight of his lovers - not to mention the tightness of Anders’ arse, clenching around two cocks now. And Hawke was well endowed, to say the least.

“Fuck me,” Anders begged weakly, and Fenris gave a weak thrust up, unable to get much leverage anymore in his position.

Luckily Hawke could make up for that, keeping one arm around Anders’ torso and grabbing the mage’s pale hip with his free hand. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, pounding cries and moans out of Anders.

Fenris had to follow, had to join in and moan with Anders.

Hawke grunted on each thrust, and it was perfect, the sounds of their lovemaking all consuming, the world outside this bed non-existing.

“I-I love you,” Anders whimpered, and he was rewarded with another kiss from Hawke and a quick nibble of his bottom lip.

But Fenris couldn’t let Anders say that and then let Hawke hog him.

His fingers scrabbled for a grip on the mage while their bodies shook beneath Hawke’s strength, sweat slicking skin to make it near impossible. Instead he ended up tugging on Hawke’s arm until he released their mage, letting him flop forward and flat onto Fenris.

…or as flat as he could, needing to keep his back arched high to keep Fenris’ cock inside of him. He was always careful not to lose his lovers. Fenris liked to joke Anders was a greedy mage, keeping them so close.

It was the only time Anders would agree, and Fenris would happily indulge.

This time though, there was no breath to speak or tease. There was just panting, sucking air from each other’s lungs desperately when Fenris melded their mouths together.

“Beautiful…”

Fenris barely registered the word Hawke muttered, just the low rumble in his chest that could be felt all the way through Anders. They all shifted, Fenris pressed deeper into the mattress when Hawke leaned over too, grip tightening to increase his pace.

Increase his pace further, causing more and louder gasps to be forced from either of his lovers beneath him.

Louder, tighter, harder - until there was nothing left but pleasure and heat and a mindblowing orgasm as Anders cried out into Fenris’ ear, hot see squirting between their bellies where they were pressed together.

Eventually, Hawke slowed. It was amazing how long the man would go after his orgasm hit, and Fenris felt sore and sated.

“Fuck… I love you,” Anders muttered, exhausted and unmoving.

“Same,” Hawke grunted, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the mage’s shoulder.

“Agreed,” Fenris added softly, pressing a kiss to Anders’ cheek instead. “But next time, have someone sent to get us when you need a distraction.”

Anders laughed breathlessly, head flopping down over Fenris’ shoulder. “Noted.”

 

 


	5. Feared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Feared  
> Rating: R-17  
> Pairing: Fenhanders  
>  **Warnings: Major Character death, this be a bad ending**  
>  Prompt for Saturday: ‘Let’s Grow Old Together’
> 
> Part one of the diptych. Part two is the happy ending.  
> 

“You know you can’t hold me forever.”

“I can.”

“You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I may sleep when Hawke returns.”

“You have to let me go.”

“I do not.”

Anders sighed, and stopped arguing. They repeated this little argument every few hours, and Fenris’ answers never changed. Anders would keep trying anyway, because he was not willing to escape by force. He knew Fenris did it because he loved him, and he could hardly fault the elf.

Fenris was wrong. But it was comfortable in his arms, even after all this time.

They used to be this cuddly at the start - or Anders and Hawke had been, anyway. Clinging to each other at random, just because. Maybe sometimes to reassure themselves their lovers were still there, nobody had come to take them away, but mostly just because it was nice. It was warm and comfortable and they were happy.

They grew less clingy over the years when practicality snuck in, but Anders had barely noticed when the clinginess returned. Hawke and Fenris tended to stick close to him even if he was doing things they took no part in. Either of them was always close.

He only really noticed when it turned ridiculous, coming to the realisation Fenris was guarding him only two steps away from the privy door while he used it.

At the time he had laughed and joked. He had told Fenris he wasn’t going anywhere. But the look the elf gave him...

Anders had not realised the song had grown louder. He had not realised he had been humming without tune, following the rhythm of the song in his head.

But Hawke and Fenris had.

Anders had tried to escape them twice. The first time while they were in their garden, Hawke weeding between Anders’ herbs and Fenris dozing in the sun. Anders had stood and started to walk off, only breaking out in a run when he left their front gate.

Either warrior was a faster runner than he was though, Hawke only faster than Fenris because the elf had been sleeping. He had been captured - of course he was - and carried back to their home.

And he had not been released since.

He started to argue, but their answers never changed. They refused to let him go. The Calling grew louder, the nightmares keeping him from sleeping altogether, but his lovers refused to let him go.

Someone was always hugging him - or at best, holding his wrist or elbow. He was never out of their sight.

His second attempt was much later, in the middle of the night. Fenris had rolled over, his back to Anders and a little space between them. Hawke was sleeping soundly, arms relaxed around Anders’ waist.

He had tried to gently extricate himself from the embrace and sneak away, but before he even got off the bed strong, lyrium-lined fingers wrapped around his ankle, keeping him from going any further.

And then, his lovers didn’t only always hold him, but one was always awake too. It was worse, because with being held Anders could still pretend to not be a terrible bother. With them having to take turns sleeping, it was undeniable that he was.

And then, when ignoring the Calling was becoming almost unbearable, and Anders skin was starting to itch, Hawke was summoned to the Inquisition. Something in the letter convinced him to even respond to it.

Anders and Fenris had both argued vehemently, and Hawke had cried at how lively Anders had been in his anger. Because last time Hawke was summoned to the Inquisition, he nearly got killed in the Maker forsake _Fade_ and Anders would not let that happen again!

For someone who had made peace with the fact that he would leave to go die any moment, that was particularly emotional.

Hawke had not heeded their words, and Anders had cried and cursed Fenris for holding him down while allowing Hawke to leave for days before settling back into his calm acceptance.

It was never the same without Hawke anymore though. With just Fenris, it was visibly taking its toll on the elf to stay awake. Anders tried to escape again when Fenris fell asleep once, but he was hunted down in under an hour. Fenris had been crying when he found him and Anders hadn’t stopped apologising until they were back home and his voice had lulled the elf back to sleep.

He hadn’t tried to escape since, but Fenris still held him, and Fenris still argued that he was not allowed to leave.

The Calling was terrible in his head and on some days he would not realise Fenris spoke to him until hours after, but still he was not allowed to go.

“I just need to go to the Deep Roads. Die like a Grey Warden, killing Darkspawn. That’s how it’s meant to be.”

“You are not going anywhere. You are meant to be here, with Hawke and me. Not dying in a dark cramped space you despise.”

“Fenris.”

“I will not give in Anders.”

Anders sighed again, resting his head on his warrior’s shoulder.

One warrior anyway. The other was still gone.

Hopefully Hawke was faring better than Fenris, who’d lost half his weight and strength from being Anders’ living prison. Anders almost wanted to suggest Fenris just tie him up.

But the thought made him physically ill, and he should not encourage Fenris to keep him here in the first place.

But neither could he bring himself to use his magic to escape Fenris. The mere _idea_ of using his magic against Fenris was horrifying enough.

“Can we sit outside?”

“Of course.”

Fenris carefully levered them up on their feet, Anders’ hands coming forward to pull himself up by the table. The elf’s arms shifted until only one arm was wrapped securely around Anders’ waist, allowing them to walk comfortable to their front door.

They didn’t even reach it before there was a loud knocking.

Anders glanced down at Fenris, even if he knew that the elf knew as little as he did. He had been there for everything Fenris did for the past weeks, after all. So Fenris gave a small shrug, looking just as confused as he did, and they finished their last few steps to open the door.

A messenger was standing there, panting. Inquisition uniform - a horse tied to their gate. A letter held out for them.

Anders took the letter hesitantly, cringing slightly as the skin on one wrist pulled, like a healing burn. He rubbed his wrist with a frown before opening the letter first.

“ _We regret to inform you-_ ” Anders stopped abruptly, holding the letter out in front of him as if it was diseased.

“You did _not_! Tell me this letter isn’t what I think it is!”

“I was only ordered to deliver the message, Serah.” The messenger bowed before quickly backing away, clearly noticing this was not the sort of message he wanted to hear. Anders tried to follow him a step, but Fenris held him in place firmly. Deft fingers plucked the letter from Anders’ hands.

Anders refused to believe it. He refused.

Hawke did not die. This was not a letter to inform them of Hawke’s death. Hawke was practically immortal, with everything they’d been through!

The tremble in Fenris’ body told him otherwise, so in an attempt to distract himself he rolled up his sleeve to check his wrist. Why his skin had been hurting.

Hawke was not dead, so the letter was unimportant. Might as well get things done.

He froze at what he saw.

Skin blackened, smooth and shiny just like the healing burn it felt like. But black, greenish, splotchy over his skin.

_He had to leave. He had to go to the Deep roads._

“Anders-”

Fenris’ voice was breathy, stunted. Fenris was crying.

But it wasn’t true, Hawke was fine.

The taint had caught up with him, his skin itching and dark with the Blight.

He needed Hawke to be with Fenris. He couldn’t leave him by himself. His lovers deserved better than that.

“Anders!”

He was hugged tight, and Fenris buried his face in Anders’ shoulder to sob.

Anders just stared at his wrist, horrified.

_He had to leave Fenris all alone._

With a strangled noise, Anders cast a spell to knock Fenris out. The elf crumpled on their porch, face wet with tears thumping down on the dropped letter. The ink smudged, but it could not matter. It wasn’t allowed to.

“I’m so sorry, Fenris,” he wheezed, before turning and stiffly stalking off.

_Hawke was dead and he had to leave Fenris all alone to go die._

Anders marched, and he cried. Because this was not how he had wanted to die.

This was not how it was meant to be.

“F-Fenris... I’m so, so sorry...”


	6. Hoped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Hoped  
> Rating: R-17  
> Pairing: Fenhanders  
> Warnings: the Calling, but this be the good ending so don’t worry  
> Prompt for Saturday: ‘Let’s Grow Old Together’
> 
> Part two of the diptych. Part one is the bad ending.

“You know you can’t hold me forever.”

“I can.”

“You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I may sleep when Hawke returns.”

“You have to let me go.”

“I do not.”

Anders sighed, and stopped arguing. They repeated this little argument every few hours, and Fenris’ answers never changed. Anders would keep trying anyway, because he was not willing to escape by force. He knew Fenris did it because he loved him, and he could hardly fault the elf.

Fenris was wrong. But it was comfortable in his arms, even after all this time.

They used to be this cuddly at the start - or Anders and Hawke had been, anyway. Clinging to each other at random, just because. Maybe sometimes to reassure themselves their lovers were still there, nobody had come to take them away, but mostly just because it was nice. It was warm and comfortable and they were happy.

They grew less clingy over the years when practicality snuck in, but Anders had barely noticed when the clinginess returned. Hawke and Fenris tended to stick close to him even if he was doing things they took no part in. Either of them was always close.

He only really noticed when it turned ridiculous, coming to the realisation Fenris was guarding him only two steps away from the privy door while he used it.

At the time he had laughed and joked. He had told Fenris he wasn’t going anywhere. But the look the elf gave him...

Anders had not realised the song had grown louder. He had not realised he had been humming without tune, following the rhythm of the song in his head.

But Hawke and Fenris had.

Anders had tried to escape them twice. The first time while they were in their garden, Hawke weeding between Anders’ herbs and Fenris dozing in the sun. Anders had stood and started to walk off, only breaking out in a run when he left their front gate.

Either warrior was a faster runner than he was though, Hawke only faster than Fenris because the elf had been sleeping. He had been captured - of course he was - and carried back to their home.

And he had not been released since.

He started to argue, but their answers never changed. They refused to let him go. The Calling grew louder, the nightmares keeping him from sleeping altogether, but his lovers refused to let him go.

Someone was always hugging him - or at best, holding his wrist or elbow. He was never out of their sight.

His second attempt was much later, in the middle of the night. Fenris had rolled over, his back to Anders and a little space between them. Hawke was sleeping soundly, arms relaxed around Anders’ waist.

He had tried to gently extricate himself from the embrace and sneak away, but before he even got off the bed strong, lyrium-lined fingers wrapped around his ankle, keeping him from going any further.

And then, his lovers didn’t only always hold him, but one was always awake too. It was worse, because with being held Anders could still pretend to not be a terrible bother. With them having to take turns sleeping, it was undeniable that he was.

And then, when ignoring the Calling was becoming almost unbearable, and Anders skin was starting to itch, Hawke was summoned to the Inquisition. Something in the letter convinced him to even respond to it.

Anders and Fenris had both argued vehemently, and Hawke had cried at how lively Anders had been in his anger. Because last time Hawke was summoned to the Inquisition, he nearly got killed in the Maker forsake _Fade_ and Anders would not let that happen again!

For someone who had made peace with the fact that he would leave to go die any moment, that was particularly emotional.

Hawke had not heeded their words, and Anders had cried and cursed Fenris for holding him down while allowing Hawke to leave for days before settling back into his calm acceptance.

It was never the same without Hawke anymore though. With just Fenris, it was visibly taking its toll on the elf to stay awake. Anders tried to escape again when Fenris fell asleep once, but he was hunted down in under an hour. Fenris had been crying when he found him and Anders hadn’t stopped apologising until they were back home and his voice had lulled the elf back to sleep.

He hadn’t tried to escape since, but Fenris still held him, and Fenris still argued that he was not allowed to leave.

The Calling was terrible in his head and on some days he would not realise Fenris spoke to him until hours after, but still he was not allowed to go.

“I just need to go to the Deep Roads. Die like a Grey Warden, killing Darkspawn. That’s how it’s meant to be.”

“You are not going anywhere. You are meant to be here, with Hawke and me. Not dying in a dark cramped space you despise.”

“Fenris.”

“I will not give in Anders.”

Anders sighed again, resting his head on his warrior’s shoulder.

One warrior anyway. The other was still gone.

Hopefully Hawke was faring better than Fenris, who’d lost half his weight and strength from being Anders’ living prison. Anders almost wanted to suggest Fenris just tie him up.

But the thought made him physically ill, and he should not encourage Fenris to keep him here in the first place.

But neither could he bring himself to use his magic to escape Fenris. The mere _idea_ of using his magic against Fenris was horrifying enough.

“Can we sit outside?”

“Of course.”

Fenris carefully levered them up on their feet, Anders’ hands coming forward to pull himself up by the table. The elf’s arms shifted until only one arm was wrapped securely around Anders’ waist, allowing them to walk comfortable to their front door.

Anders barely had his hand on the door when a racket from outside made him freeze. Fenris pulled him to the side, pressing them against the wall in case the racket was caused by intruders, but even as he cracked open the door to peek Anders recognised a voice outside.

And then another.

“Hawke!”

Anders had ripped himself from Fenris’ grip before the elf could stop him, practically flinging himself out through the door to run straight into Hawke’s arms. His lover lifted him and spun, and Anders was immediately dizzy - the sudden movement after such long apathy, but also his thoughts.

_Hawke was too happy._ Even if Hawke had missed them, he  _knew_ Anders was hearing his Calling, he  _knew_ it was a matter of days until he’d lose one of his lovers to the Blight. He knew.

He would’ve sounded not quite as exuberant.

“Hawke? Did you...?”

Fenris was more hesitant in approaching him, but Hawke scooped him up in his arms as well squeezing them both until they laughed.

Anders hadn’t laughed in a long time. Not since he realised he heard his Calling.

It was a bit painful, making his tummy cramp, but it was the best feeling. He used to love laughing.

Only when he opened his eyes, he remembered the first voice he’d recognised. Over Hawke’s shoulder he could see a very amused looking Nin Surana.

“Commander!”

Anders gaped, forgetting how he _should_ show respect or fear or at least some sort of nervousness for the display he made. Nin had always been a very kind commander though, and it didn’t look like he changed one bit with the mellow smile and the crinkling of the skin around his eyes as they narrowed in his silent laughter.

A laughter many had mistaken for a glare, something Anders always had trouble imagining.

“It’s been a long time, Anders. You have aged a lot over the years.”

“Says the elf with the grey hair! What happened to - what did he call them again? Luscious red locks?”

Nin waved a hand dismissively, and Anders reluctantly peeled himself out of the embrace of his lovers. Hawke kept clinging to Fenris, strangely unconcerned with Anders running off now.

Then again, he’d be mad to run with Hawke and Nin on his heels.

Nin was studying him with a smile, but as Anders opened his mouth to question his presence, the elf’s face suddenly fell.

“You’re further gone than I expected, Anders. Let’s go somewhere where you can lay down and get started, before it’s too late.”

“Too late?” Anders frowned, backing a step away from Nin. Nin looked... very good. Too good. Nin had been a Warden for longer, he shouldn’t look so carefree. “It’s already too late. I should leave, heed the Calling and-”

“No, you need to go lay down, before I can no longer stop the regression of your body. I can stop the Calling Anders, but I can’t heal parts of you that are taken by the taint. So unless you wish to look like a ghoul for the rest of your life, you’ll listen to me and lay down.”

“You can stop the Calling?” Fenris was suddenly on the Commander - a tall warrior, no matter in what bad state, looming over a petite mage. It was so easy to underestimate Nin, even with the sword on his belt.

“Can you save Anders? Will you save him?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Nin smiled generously, clearly not feeling threatened at all. “If you’ll let me.”

Fenris released him as if burned, looking frantic for a moment before grabbing Nin’s shoulders again and marching him back to their small home. Anders found his hand gently grasped, his fingers entangling with Hawke’s before there was a gentle squeeze. He glanced at his lover to meet his smile.

“It will be alright now,” Hawke promised. “You don’t have to leave.”

“You really can’t let me go, can you?”

Hawke leaned in to brush a kiss against his cheek, still smiling. “Never.”


	7. No love for reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: No love for reality  
> Rating: R-17  
> Pairing: Fenhanders  
> Warnings: reference to rape, reference to child abuse  
> Prompt for Sunday: ‘Putting out the Fires of Kirkwall’  
> Or ‘Either a difficult/dangerous situation or just a petty argument between 2 of them, large or small scale conflict.’ 
> 
> I took the dangerous situation long after Kirkwall because I didn’t feel like writing about the big boom again right now.

Fenris didn’t miss a beat, even after spotting the scene. Time seemed to slow until a standstill as he took it in, but it was only his brain that faltered in its attempt to catch up with what he saw; his body moved without hesitation, swift and deadly like kill on reflex.

Anders was pressed up against a wall, looking smaller than he had in years. Four Templars surrounded him, their bulk in their full plate armour dwarfing the ever thin mage.

Not just their size though. It was also their stance - Anders cowering back, trying to make himself small, get away from the heavy metal gauntlet on his chest that didn’t look like it was pinning him down. The Templars were threatening in their stances, looming and dominant and confident.

There was no Justice in sight, meaning Anders had been silenced at least once by the Templars, but most likely they had all taken their turn already. Justice always managed to bleed through the first silence, Fenris knew.

No, there were no blue cracks in Anders’ skin to show the presence of his spirit. But the acrid smell of urine assaulted Fenris’ nose as he moved closer and his eyes strayed just low enough to see where it came from.

These Templars had done something to scare Anders so badly that his bladder had given out. Anders, who normally flared and spat acid at the mere mention of Templars - Anders, who they had to drag off so often to keep him from attacking Templars at random. Anders, who Fenris had once witnessed knocking a Templar out with his bare fists, despite being a mage.

These Templars were threatening his terrified lover and it made Fenris see red.

The gauntlet on Anders’ chest, making his thing torso look smaller than it was, caressing him like they had the right to do that to someone who had literally just pissed himself in fear.

It brought back a sharp memory of a similar scene Fenris had seen once. A young boy terrified of his broker who was giving him his first instructions for the bodyslave he would be sold as. A child only old enough to know he was about to get raped.

Fenris was already reaching out to the closest Templar with his back to him when he heard the shout behind him.

“There he is! Get him!”

He didn’t need to look to know. These slavers had been on his heels ever since he and Hawke went separate ways this morning to find Anders. He’d heard the very same voice shout before.

He didn’t pause to think - there was no time to think, not for himself and certainly not for Anders. His hand phased through the first Templar’s cuirass into his back, fingers closing around the man’s heart. He whipped around right as he pulled the man’s heart out, making sure to launch the heart over his head to the slavers catching up with him.

The Templar didn’t even have time to make a sound at his heart being ripped out. Fenris was splattered with blood, the heart flying to hit one of the slavers square in the face, and he gave a hoarse shout.

“Blood mage!”

Nothing better to draw a Templar’s attention, after all.

The three remaining Templars turned as one and the slavers realised their mistake right as the heart hit with a wet squelch.

And then Hawke swooped in, sword high above his head as he seemingly dropped from the very heavens - Fenris would later scold him for his sense of drama - to cleave one of the slavers in half.

Hell broke loose.

Two Templars set off to attack the the slavers, the actual blood mage among the slavers quickly drained one of his slaves to cast an offensive spell, and the rest of them drew their weapons. The third Templar remained stock still, eyes wide with anger and looking at Fenris while the fourth, dead Templar crumbled to the ground.

“You bloody knife-ear-”

Fenris didn’t even bother to draw his own sword.

He simply stepped forward, grabbing the Templar by his face and slamming him back against the wall. The man was big, but no match for Fenris’ strength - not with the lyrium enhancing him and his anger fuelling him further. His finger dug into the Templar’s face and he hissed angrily while leaning in.

“If I had the time, I would slowly take you apart, limb by blighted limb, for hurting my mage. You are fortunate that I do not have time for such leisure right now.”

Still, ripping out another heart would be unnecessary. It was very unpleasant and he really rather not. So he reached for Anders, slipping the dagger from his sheath to neatly stab it into the Templar’s armpit, then down into his inner thigh, hoping the angle between the heavy plate would allow him to hit an artery.

The amount of blood gushing over his hand told him that he hit his mark.

Fenris allowed the Templar to crumple to the ground, releasing him to turn to Anders instead. The mage’s eyes were wide and glassy, his body shaking subtly, clearly suppressed. Fenris knew that too; trying not to shake because it might offend your attacker.

There was little he could do right now, not with the carnage Hawke was creating for them, so he carefully touched Anders’ arm to see if it would be allowed. When Anders didn’t even flinch from the touch, he carefully scooped his lover up in his arms to take him away.

He made it halfway back to their camp before Hawke joined him, taking Anders from him because he could carry the tall man easier.

“I take it we do not have to worry about those slavers or Templars any longer?”

“You take it correctly.” Hawke leaned over to brush a kiss against Fenris’ cheek, hitting more his cheekbone than anything else, but it was fine.

Or it would be fine, after they managed to make their mage snap out of it, had him washed and fed and kept warm between them in their combined bedrolls.

Fenris hesitantly reached out to take Anders’ hand in his own, squeezing it slightly. He wasn’t sure whether it was to reassure himself or the mage, but the small twitch of Anders’ fingers he received in response was promising.

“They will never get you, Anders,” he promised softly, “not while we are still here.”

“And the same goes for you, Fenris,” Hawke added firmly, giving him a look. “You are both safe with me. Nobody gets to hurt either of you, ever.”

Fenris offered his lover a grateful smile, to be rewarded with Hawke suddenly looking flustered.

“Just remember that Fenris. Know that I told you.”

 

 


End file.
